Nolan Ryan never chose to run for political office. That's another reason to like him.

Instead, he stuck with what he knew, and Saturday suggests again he made the right call. His Rangers won as the American League's best, a record reflective of a franchise that has appeared in the previous two World Series.

But Ryan could have held statewide office, or even won the U.S. Senate seat now in the balance. He had the one asset a candidate must have, which is his good name.

James seemingly has everything else. He's got the looks, the buzzwords and the ESPN-honed ability to speak at length without saying much. Being a former football star in a football state would normally help, too.

It was all there Friday night in Dallas in a debate among Republicans competing for Texas' open U.S. Senate seat. James was vague, offering little insight, but when did that ever stop anyone in politics?

James said he was just a citizen who would be guided by the Constitution and his faith. “I want to go do the work of ‘We the People,'” he said, which sounds nice enough.

So does his Facebook page. There, under activities, he lists “ranching, real estate, restoring traditional values.”

For those who don't know: Before restoring, strip and sand with steel wool.

If he sounds insipid, that's because insipid can be effective in an election. James is not unlike other celebrities who skip steps to run for high office. They lean on name recognition.

But that's the catch — James' name gets recognized the way the guilty do in a police lineup. Or, as they like to say in politics, his likeability numbers are low.

They are famously low in West Texas. On the day James announced his candidacy, a Lubbock radio station asked its listeners if they would vote for him. More than 96 percent said no.

Granted, that's not close to being scientific. But a Dallas Morning News online poll last month was nearly identical to the radio station's results, except with this twist.

Again, these are people who care enough to click. But motivated voters make an impact, too, and this goes deeper than James and Leach.

For example: James' ties to SMU's eventual death penalty might not be proven, but perception means everything in politics. Besides, how much money James did or didn't take from boosters makes little difference to Aggies and Longhorn fans. They always rooted against him anyway.

“Over the past couple of years, Craig James has been the most unpopular college football broadcaster in this country,” Richard Deitsch, a Sports Illustrated media critic told a reporter in February. “You would have to go to Antarctica to find a positive comment about the guy.”

So maybe he polls well at the South Pole. In Texas, today, James remains in single figures.

Ryan would be the opposite, and his delivery would be part of that. He doesn't speak as clearly or as professionally as James does.

But that can also work the other way. Instead of smarmy, Ryan would come across as real.

Better yet, no fan base is aligned against Ryan. He played in the Houston and Dallas markets, and not against the other.

In doing so, he built a solid reputation without a blemish. Little wonder GOP consultants urged Ryan to enter the political arena as early as 1989.

Ryan once served as vice-chairman of the Texas Parks and Wildlife Commission, and twice considered running for state agricultural commissioner. But Ryan pulled back both times, and the second one, in 1997, is the most telling.

Then, a Federal Communications Commission official said television stations would have to provide equal time for his opponents every time a commercial featuring Ryan appeared. Companies such as Advil and Dairy Queen had lined up to get him to be their spokesman because people liked him and trusted him.